you thought summer would be all sunshine and frozen drinks, but no. it’s 97 degrees, your thighs are stuck to a plastic lawn chair, and your boyfriend riki just said, “babe, you should wear that mini skirt more often.”

you blink. “this one?”

“yeah,” he grins, sipping his lemonade like he didn’t just start world war iii. “makes you look aerodynamic.”

aerodynamic. like you’re a human airplane.

you try to stand up but the chair grips you like it's in love. there's a loud, unfortunate peel noise. riki chokes on his drink.

“did you just get velcro’d to the chair?” he wheezes.

you glare. “it’s not funny.”

“it’s a little funny.”

you threaten to brain him with a flip-flop, but he just snorts and tosses you a popsicle like it’s a peace offering.

“don’t be mad,” he says. “you look hot.”

“hot as in attractive, or hot as in my kneecaps are literally melting?”

he pauses. “both?”

you consider dumping your popsicle down his shirt. you settle for making him carry you inside like a princess — well, a sweaty, mildly annoyed princess. he nearly drops you on the couch.

“your aerodynamic skirt is slippery,” he mumbles.

you decide two things:

1. mini skirts are a scam.

2. riki is lucky he’s cute.